


Three heads and a dragon

by Minita



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Anti-Targaryen, Blood, F/M, Post post season 8, canon verse?, injuries, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-08-10 01:46:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20127331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minita/pseuds/Minita
Summary: A threat has come to Westeros from across the sea. The Starks will do their duty as always. This is not Targaryen friendly but there’s mention of Targ features.





	Three heads and a dragon

My name is Catelyn. My family calls me Kathy. I was named after my grandmother, a Tully of Riverun. My mother is the Queen in the North Sansa Stark. My father is Jon Snow, Lyannna Stark’s son. I have two older brothers, Eddard and Benjen. I am afraid. 

The wind is strong and the sky a cloudless blue. My brothers and I haven’t reached the top of the hill yet when I smell it. It smells like no other beast I’ve met before. Sweet and putrid at the same time, like burning flesh. The air is suddenly warm and heavy as if someone had opened an oven, and then I see it. 

It roars. Nothing I have seen in any book, no amount of time spent listening to aunt Arya and none of the letters from uncle Brandon looks remotely like the reality standing in front of me. Edd, Benny and I stop walking and place ourselves by the stones set up this very morning. They form a triangle that outlines the cliffs to our sides.

It’s the first time I have ever been at Dragonstone but uncle Brandon drew a map of the hill for father. He locked himself in those chambers with mother, uncle Gendry and aunt Arya for days, sometimes arguing loud enough for all of us to hear. “These are my children, I love them. Please, I’ll do it myself, let me do it,” he pleads. Aunt Arya says something I can’t understand. Then is mother’s voice, silky like a river, “it’s their duty, they must protect the realm. They will be brave like their mother and father. Like their grandparents before.” Father doesn’t argue anymore.

This morning we broke our fast lightly, just tea and bread. I then spent hours having my hair braided according to mother’s instructions, and then I put on a new dress. The style is odd, crossed at the chest, with shoulder pads that take off forming a v. Mother’s eyes are dry when she kisses my forehead and slides a silver chain over my right shoulder. The links look like bones and on my chest three dragon heads crown them. Then she kisses Edd’s auburn curls and hugs Benny. My brother is only fifteen but he looks like a younger version of my father, unruly dark curls and pointed Stark chin. Mother had father’s old armour altered for him and he’s wearing his old cloak. Mother made it at Castle Black years ago. It smells musty.

I look to my right and see the tip of the rope sticking from the grass. It’s painted green and nearly invisible if you didn’t know it was there. The entire hill is covered in them. Soldiers are hidden under wholes covered by more grass and mud all around it, holding the ends of the ropes and long spears my uncle Gendry forged. 

I stand very still according to the plan. I must let him approach me first. The beast sniffs the air and then leans to one side. Its huge wings block my view but I think it must be sniffing Eddie. I see it turn to the left and lower his head, I’m far but I notice Benny’s legs tremble. He stands his ground though. So do I.

When he turns his head to me I see my reflection in its eyes, my silver hair braided oddly, flying in the wind. I try very hard not to gag from the odour of death that surrounds the beast. There were sheep in the beginning, horses, even lions. The lords were restless, mother had frequent meetings and then we all traveled to Dragonstone after uncle Brandon’s letter arrived. The beast seemed to stop for a while and then it happened. A small village near Riverun. Then another and another. “Children. Old people. The sick,” father said. “Anyone who can’t run fast enough and hide.”

I may be a child of twelve myself but I won’t run. I close my eyes a moment and I open them to the screams of men, everything confusion and smoke. It’s over in what seems seconds. The dragon lies on the ground, the ropes holding him down. I hear father scream orders and see him, Gendry and aunt Arya on top of its head. They’re covered in blood. The beast has been speared in its eyes and all over its back. Smoke rises from its wounds.

A dozen men died from their burns. Mother nursed father’s blisters all night, hands and neck and everywhere the dragon’s blood touched his skin, “Weren’t you supposed to be immune to fire?,” she teases him. Father smiles and rests his head on the pillow. Mother leans and kisses him in the mouth. I hear the faint noises of the feast outside and remember I must pack. We go back home tomorrow.


End file.
